Listen to the Rain Series: Part I Rain
by xXAnimeXXRevolutionXx
Summary: Shikyoko powerful beyond measure, is sent on a mission. But in the end it's not about how strong or powerful she is, but where her loyalties lie. The bijuu, the mission, the jinchuriki, or the Akatsuki in the end what can she do? It will change the world. Now in the process of being rewritten.
1. Shades of Grey

Disclaimer: I do **_NOT _**own Naruto, I only wish I did. There would be...changes if I owned Naruto.

Warning: This may include spoilers for some people, but most likely not. There are also some canon details I will be changing or ignoring entirely. If that's not your cup of tea…Unsurprisingly, there will also be curses and violence. As I said this story does **_NOT_** follow the story line **_WHAT SO EVER. _**It is a complete AU, so expect some major character OOC-ness If you don't like it just don't read. If you think you might be insulted by my use of gods, angels, names and the application of this story's version of creation please don't read it. I don't want to offend anybody so if it does I apologize.

Author's Note: I don't have a beta at the moment and I'm nowhere near perfect so please excuse any errors. Feel free to point them out if you see them though. I will use some words that don't exist so the pronunciation is up to you and their meanings will always be explained. They might not be immediately though. Also I can phrase things strangely at times so if there's something that's unclear to you and you want it explained PM me or ask in a review. I'll gladly explain it if it doesn't reveal something that I haven't written yet.

Summary: Shikyoko, powerful beyond measure, is sent on a mission. But in the end it's not about how strong or powerful she is, but where her loyalties lie. The bijou are her the mission, the jinchuriki her friends, and the Akatsuki her saviors. In the end what can she do but wait and fight? The decision will forever alter the ninja world.

"Human Speaking"

_Human Thoughts_

**"Demon Speaking"**

'**_Demon Thoughts'_**

**"Summon Speaking"**

'**_Summon Thoughts'_**

_"Divine Speaking"_

'_Divine Thoughts'_

* * *

_Rain. It doesn't discriminate; it falls on everyone and drenches everything. In every world it's falling, saturating them, and drowning them in sorrow._

_Lightning flashed across the sky as one brief streak. It tore through the atmosphere and was gone in the next moment. A roar of thunder came following on its heels. A face, partially hidden in shadow, was briefly bathed in light. It was a female face defined by sharp angular planes and an elegant arching brow. She sat motionless, back to a cold cave wall._

_This was Rain Country, a land of eternal rain and sorrow. The rain, some say, is the tears of the gods and angels. It falls as the divine beings weep and try to cleanse the land. The lightning flashed, once more illuminating her as it ricocheted across the heavens. Her body, like her face, was long and narrow and defined by sharp edges. Her curves alone softened her silhouette. However, for all her beauty she was also oddly plain, painted only in blacks, greys, whites and silvers; she was blank, nonexistent. As if the rain washed away her very color, her essence, her sense of being._

_No Rain is not sad, but...impassive. It has purpose; it washes away this land's endless sadness. But I...no, I have no purpose. Not here. Not now. Not in this time._

_With her final dark thoughts she too let the rain wash her away. Her eyes gently slipped closed, the storm lulling her into oblivion._

* * *

Somewhere in a place veiled in mist two beings stood. There was only a white void that stretched out in every direction. The two beings were the mere hints of distortion marring an otherwise empty expanse.

_"She's…forgetting."_ There was a small pause._"Mattaki,"_ it spoke once more this time addressing its companion. There was another pause, a longer one. Silent words flew and bare whispers of breathe caressed the world.

_"Yes,"_ the companion said in response to the unheard words. This voice was colder and decidedly more chilling. It was dark and dead. Had a human been present they would have heard an undertone of bones rattling. They would have shuddered as if someone had walked across their grave. The mist swirled and writhed like the limbs of some sorry, dying creature. In that moment the two distortions had vanished. They were simply gone like nightmares in the light of dawn. The pale, white expanse was once more barren of any presence.

* * *

Grime ran down the cracked bricks of an alley's wall. Rain fell harshly on the roofs of the buildings on either side and slid down cold metal pipes and across the edges of broken windows. In this alley caked in mud and water and filth a small figure sat huddled in a forgotten crate. The crate's wooden panels were partially broken and rotten but it was a shelter all the same. It helped shield the small, shivering bundle from some of the rain and some of the cold. Lodged between dumpsters and garbage this sad forgotten crate laid.

Within this sad, forgotten crate the bundle of faded grey rags twitched revealing a small pale arm. The figure shifted again pulling the rags closer to their chest. A hand, just as pale as their arm, pressed the bunched fabric to their heart hoping to ease the coldness that was lodged there. But it did little good. Every harsh blast of wind that bit at the child's skinny frame and every freezing drop of water that clung to them only worsened the cold: the cold of the world, the cold of loneliness, and the cold of being forgotten. It would never fade away; not because of some desperate clinging to soggy cloth.

This was the sorry sight that the leader of the Akatsuki came upon, the man that was hailed as the God of rain and the man who single-handedly beat Hanzo the Salamander. He was no stranger to the loneliness of an orphan, to the desperation that clawed at their hearts, nor to the agony of knowing the world kept turning and forgot those poor, pitiful souls. He clawed his way from the dredges of those pits that lay at the very bottom of society. In doing so he learned there was only one thing the world respected: _power_. It was for that reason alone this powerful god-like being found himself in a god-forsaken alleyway.

..._power_

He stepped closer to the crate from which awe inspiring waves of power radiated. His shadow spread out cloaking the crate and the wall behind it. He waited. The rain fell. The wind whistled. The bundle twitched.

The rags fell away from the small figure pooling in their lap and encircling their waist. The man stared at the newly revealed figure of a young and tiny waif of a girl. His eyes took in the sight of the matted knots of dark hair that crowned the child's head. Trailing his eyes lower he saw what one might expect from a street urchin. Her frame was skinny and emaciated, defined by the sharp lines of fragile bone that too pale skin stretched over. Spidery limbs were curled around her chest in a meager attempt at protection. Then his eyes met hers.

Held within a tiny face above the long lines of a nose and pinched lips there were two sunken eyes. Two eyes that peered out from the wet bangs plastered to her forehead. They were mildly bloodshot but they were alive; they were alive because they were so dead. They were the deepest pools of obsidian that he ever saw. They looked at him, through him, into him, they tore his soul apart and they _looked _in a way that he had never been looked at before.

The only reason the girl took any notice of this man was because of his own _color_. Her eyes caught on the bloody crimson of the clouds that adorned his cloak, the shocking auburn of his hair, and the stunning violet ripples of his eyes.

..._color_

It was not mere physical colors that drew her in though. It was the colors of his soul that attracted her. The vibrant reds of his passion, the stunning silver of his resolve, the coiling lines of blues and greens, and encroaching black vapors of his past, they all called to her. His soul shone from him and stretched across her vision. His soul sang.

...**_interest_**.

And he held out his hand.

* * *

The cold light of morning filtered into an austerely decorated room. A young woman's figure sat on the black cushion of the window seat. One long, lean leg was stretched out before her while the other was pulled to her chest and severed as a perch for arm. Leaning her pale forehead against the cool glass of the window she watched the rain streaming down it. The rain twisted in overlapping trails like tears down a face. She sat there calmly observing the dull pipe works and hulking stone buildings that constituted Ame. Her keen eyes traced the movements of shadows that darted across her vision, shadows that were really people, shinobi.

Apart from the drumming of the rain the room was silent. She exhaled a soft sigh; the water vapor of her breath forming a vague fog on the glass. Her head tilted back, the motion sending tumbles of ebony hair down her back. Long lashes fluttered as her eyelids slid shut, concealing the obsidian of her eyes.

* * *

_"Sanko," a tall man said reverently. Despite his broad shoulders and muscled frame he stood nervously before this woman. His eyes, a deep brown color, were wide and his irises darted from side to side anxiously. His clothes were made of tanned leather and sturdy cloths. They were some of the finest his village had to offer as he was a very wealthy and influential man. However, at the moment this normally proud man fell to pieces. He felt naked under the woman's sharp scrutiny, as helpless and unlearned as a newborn babe._

_Finally, after a few moments the man drew himself together. He stood at his full height and threw his shoulders back. His darting irises stilled and locked gazes with the woman. Timid grey suddenly turned to the iridescence of silver. He took a breath and spoke, "The Lord has answered us, correct?" The woman held his gaze and stood silent. Seconds trickled by and just as that silver was faltering she answered._

_"Yes, he knows what plagues you. I shall aid your people." She glided forward then; the fine violet of her robe fluttering like vapor behind her as she moved. She stopped just before him and her robes settled, falling around her like water. The deep crimson of her lips met the furrowed wrinkles of his brow. One of her hands rose soundlessly to cup his jaw and she drew her thumb across his cheek; the gentle caress of a butterfly's wings. After a moment she stepped back allowing her arm to fall to her side once more._

_The man blushed faintly and looked mildly dazed. He too backed away and after a moment retreated to return to his people. He would be the bearer of joyous news for once. As he moved away he could not help but throw one last glance at her over his shoulder._

_There she stood pale and resplendent against the rising sun. Wind blew sending the curls of her hair and the fabric of her robes aflutter. He turned away once more a small smile on his lips. The wind ruffled his own blonde locks and brushed his cheek; the semblance of one last kiss. He knew that if he turned again she would no longer be there, but the image was burned on his retinas, painted on the canvas of his mind._

_In that moment when he looked back at her he no longer saw a mere priestess. Framed with the fire of sunlight her mortality fell away from her. He would swear on his soul that he saw golden arches of wings stretch across the horizon. There had been an ethereal and timeless entity standing there. He had turned around before her magnificence burned him away._

_The painting of his mind slid from the bristles of his brush. He left his mark upon the world just as she had left her mark upon his soul. _

_Agneal - divine - the village's beloved protector, Gabriel._

* * *

_The sky was screaming and great flashes of lightning tore through it. They branched across the heavens like misshapen arms. Wind was howling and the world turned dark. The clouds were so impenetrable not even the sun could pierce through them. Instead its light bled out from behind them in deep shades of burgundy._

_Suddenly a new light shot across the sky. It was a ball of blue fire that spat a trail of sparks and left tails of flame in its wake. As it ripped through the sky it let off a piercing shriek; the very heavens were screaming._

_As suddenly as it came the fire ball was gone as it careened into the earth. It crashed with a resounding boom; the very ground trembled. Slowly the light dissipated as the mass dispersed into the ground._

_An assembly of villagers stood looking on awestruck and frightened. One old man hobbled to the forefront. Wisps of grey hair whipped around his face accentuating his receding hairline. Although he carried a gnarled staff in equally gnarled and wrinkled hands he still managed to cut an impressive figure. He was taller than all of the other villages and his age only proved he was a survivor. He had flourished and lived when his fellows had all perished and faded away._

_A man like him did not survive on superstitions; the vices of weaker beings. However, the remembrance of an old legend rose unbidden within his mind all the same. Before he could stop himself a word snuck past his lips and hissed out from between his teeth. "Lujackre." He stood momentarily stunned that he'd let such a word slip from his tongue. Before he could do anything to check himself the villagers had already heard the whispered utterance. Unlike him they took it up willingly and chanted it like a prayer. A man like him did not survive as long as he had by being foolish. He slunk away and moved into the shadows of the forest, away from the crowd._

_He kept walking moving farther and farther into shadow. The trees stretched upward; their branches arched over him like protective arms. After several more minutes of storming through the dense underbrush the old man stopped at a clearing. The sky had cleared and the pale light of a full moon illuminated the field. The man stepped forward, his grey cloak whispering over leaves and grasses. When he stopped he stood before a place marked with wildflowers. They were mostly purple in color although some were blue and a rare few were black. These flowers were the only marker of an otherwise unmarked grave._

_He moved to kneel; his movements were slow with age and weariness. Once on the ground the man's previously stern and determined manner melted away. Red and silver became entangled with masses of endless blue and suffocating black. Piercing ice blue eyes peered out from a weathered, aged face. They misted slightly and his lips held the faintest tremble as they parted. "I am so sorry, Ultgraepatre. You, the man who had saved this village in its birth years. You, the man whose eyes had seen divinity and you, the man who had been touched with its Grace. I am so sorry that I, a member of your bloodline the son of your son's son, have failed you so. I have never been one for the old tales. They were merely tools to scare those of weaker will and keep them in line."_

_He stopped speaking and took a moment to collect himself. He stretched out his hand and ran his fingers over the silky petals of the blossoms. After a few strokes he let his hand fall away. With a deep, rattling sigh he allowed his old body to fall back into the cushion of wild grasses. He landed with a dull thump and a quiet oomph. Blue eyes stared into the face of the moon and the moon stared back rimming his eyes in silver. His voice rose up again; it was quieter, now whispering out between the blades of grass and stolen on the breath of the wind. "Lujackre. Lucifer. The Fallen One. The Morning Star. The **Mourning** Star. They are all one in the same and that's the name I allowed to slip in a moment of weakness. The villagers will be inconsolable because it was the Devil they saw tonight. How we have forgotten that Lucifer is The Light Bearer as well. ...Mourning Star indeed." When the man fell silent once more he let out one last derisive snort for his words and actions._

_The villagers found his cooled corpse in the morning laid to rest among black wildflowers and dying weeds. They tutted sadly in dismay and buried his body a few hours later far from the field in which he died. He was only the first of many victims they knew The Great Evil One would claim. In tales to come children would be warned away from the forests. They'd be told the tale of a foolish old man who thought he could conqueror Lujackre and how death was his reward for his efforts._

_Had that old man still been alive he would have scoffed in distaste and disbelief. Rain fell._

_Listen, the rain whispered as it fell. The drops drummed against moist earth and mourned. Oh. Oh. It cried. The wind ruffled beautiful flowers of purple and blue. Gabriel it called. Lucifer it whispered. How people have forgotten..._

_...the two sides of the same endlessly flipping coin._

* * *

_Large columns of glistening stone rose on either side of the throne room. The space was inconceivably large with an arched ceiling far above. In this plane blinding white and black existed together inseparably. A figure of twining gold and silver branches swirled forth. The throne rose up in the distance with a chasm between here and there. Other figures rested in the There. One was a chaotic blur of motion, another was a green feathery mass, and the last was a black and white vapor that almost perfectly blended with the room._

_The Chaotic Blur flitted forward enveloping the Gold-Silver Swirls. The two masses twinned with each other dancing and melding together. An eternity past in an instant and the Gold-Silver Swirls departed._

_Celestial Guardians, the entities that stand guard at the gates of eternity, and the swirls of gold and silver that are the Gates of Eternity._

* * *

She inhaled slowly through her nose, her chest rising with the intake of air. Slowly her eyes fluttered back open. She ran a hand through her hair as she sat up. Her eyes lazily glanced back out the window absently taking note of the change in lighting. The storm had worsened during the time she had been thinking and heavy grey clouds roiled through the sky. Another sigh left her as she realized it was too dark to appreciate the rain. Gracefully, she swung her legs around in one smooth motion so that her toes just brushed the ground beneath the window seat. In a moment she was standing and with a few quick steps she found herself next to her bed.

She settled herself on the edge of her bed the movement rustling the soft cotton of her black sheets and blankets. Her legs crossed as she leaned forward to run a hand across her bedside table. The rich mahogany of the table, matching her bed frame and floor, felt cool and smooth beneath her fingertips. After a moment her fingers grazed across the grove of a seal. A spark of chakra and a drop of blood later and an old fashioned skeleton key shimmered into existence. It was silver and had minuscule runes etched along its spine. Grasping the key between slender fingers the woman inserted it into the lock of the table's drawer. As she turned the key she pulsed her chakra once, twice, three times and the drawer slid open with a quiet click.

A thin leather bound volume sat within the drawer; a book she took in hand as she stepped over to full desk that sat across the room. Sliding into the desk chair she grabbed a fountain pen and flicked through the pages of the book in the same motion. Basic seals on the pages and along the spine allowed the book to hold far more paper than what one might assume. Finally reaching the desired page the woman filled pages and pages with the elegant lines of her calligraphy. Replacing the pen she leaned back in her chair allowing her eyes to slide unseeingly across her room.

The room was very Spartan in design, containing few luxuries. The walls and ceiling were in various shades of violet while all the wood was a dark shade of mahogany. The bed was pushed into the corner opposite the window, the night table beside it and the desk beyond the bed's base. Three doors lined the walls. One near her desk was the exit and the one next to it a bathroom. The last door was by the head of her bed and led to a small closet.

Sensing a presence nearing, she snapped the cover shut and replaced her pen. Without pausing she fluidly but swiftly placed the rest of the items back in their original places. As she slid the drawer closed the soft padding of footsteps stopped just short of her door.

Returning to her former post at the window she reclined gracefully, relaxed. Then the door swung open and light from the hallway seeped into her room. Sweeping through the entrance way with nary a pause was the man who took her in.

"Shikyoko," he called out to her. There was no verbal response but her shifting relayed her attentiveness. Outsiders may view it as a sign of disrespect but Shikyoko had always been reserved and mysterious. She rarely needed words to convey her acknowledgement; the weight of her gaze and her gestures were more than enough. His rippled patterned eyes locked with her piercing ones as he continued, "the nine have gathered themselves together in the newly repaired Uzushiogakure. They've grown incredibly powerful." Here he paused as his lips turned down in a subtle frown.

He hadn't expected her to speak but she did. Her voice was smooth and quiet, much like she was. Her words and sentences were without haste. She paused between her statements to emphasize her points.

"Nagato-sama …the Jinchuriki are my duty.

Please… do not worry so. Madara will ultimately answer to _me_.

You are _not_ God. Do not be burdened by the responsibilities of one."

Had it not been her and had it been several years ago he would have snapped the neck of anyone who dared to be so impudent. But it was her and it was not several years ago. A half-smile, half-smirk crossed his face as he remembered That Day. He nodded in acknowledgement and allowed some of the tension to leak from his frame.

In an instant she was by his side, one hand gently clasping his shoulder. She looked at him then, truly looked at him. The reds, blues, greens, and blacks fell away and soft silver radiated from him. Her eyes met his once more over his shoulder. In that second of eye contact his eyes flashed silver. A single breath later and she was gone.

Nagato moved forward to perch on the window seat Shikyoko had just vacated. His eyes just caught the flash that was said woman vanishing into the distance. He allowed a true smile to pull at his lips as he watched the rain fall. The sky began to lighten and the tiniest streaks of sun beams peaked through the thinning clouds. The dim light poured through the window and splashed across his face.

He continued smiling and the rain tapered to a light drizzle.

He remembered how the scrawny orphan of long ago grew to become a beautiful woman.

* * *

_Rain fell on the two figures slowly moving through Ame. One was tall and moved with a silent, fluid grace. The other was the skinny figure of a tiny slip a girl. The taller one glanced behind him to eye the young child. He had purposefully chosen to walk the way back to Headquarters, not out of any consideration for the girl but because he wanted the chance to observe her. He would never admit it but the girl unnerved him._

_It was eerie the way the girl trailed behind him. His movements were quiet because he possessed years of training, experience, and a massive heap of natural talent. Yet this girl floated along behind him in utter silence. Her footsteps did not squish into the muddy ground, her wet clothes did not slap at her limps, and her breathing was not heavy with fatigue. Even that unsettling power that had resonated through his senses earlier was absent. Had he not felt it for himself he would have assume this waif-child was a mere shell, the echo of child that is mere moments from keeling over and fading away._

_He glanced back not to observe her but to reassure himself that she was present at all._

* * *

_Years past by and the scrawny, emaciated child grew. The hollows of her cheeks filled and her eyes were no longer sunken into a skull-like head. Her ribs and vertebrae could no longer be counted through her skin and her limbs no longer seemed so frail and bird-like. However, she never gained the round softness of a healthy child. Her face and limbs retained hard edges and she already looked many years older than her estimated age._

_He looked at her now as she trained. Her body was a blur as she flowed through kata and stances. Her previously robotic movements were replaced with a fluidly, efficient grace. However, the silence of the grave that hung around her never dissipated. When he looked at her he had to suppress a shudder. There was something terribly chilling about her. Yet when he looked away her presence faded to nothing and it was like she was never there in the first place._

* * *

_A wakizashi had a thin trail of blood running over its edge. The treated blade didn't reflect even a hint of light. A flick of the wrist and the blade was free of blood once more. The owner of the fine blade smoothly sheathed it, the epitome of nonchalance. She stood utterly uncaring of the lives she had just ended._

_Nagato looked on from some distance away noting that her assassinations had been perfect. She had been quick and efficient. Despite being tasked with the elimination of nearly an entire village not one alarm had been raised. She had been Death. With one movement the cold steel of that blade severed the heads of each and every one of her targets._

_His eyes scanned over her figure; and not a fleck of blood was on her._

* * *

Shikyoko moved so quickly through the trees that she was barely even a blur. She was simply there and gone; not one leaf was disturbed, not one piece of bark broken, not even the keenest of animals so much as twitch at her passing. The obsidian of her still unnerving gaze was hidden as she slid her eyelids shut. Her movements did not falter and she continued to move swiftly toward Uzu. With eyes closed she listened.

The rain fell in a gentle mist. Its spray only just caressed the greens and browns of the forest. It made only the barest of hisses as the liquid landed and ran down the vegetation.

_Shhh. The rain cooed to her. It is almost over. Rest. Rest. Sleep. It crooned at the shell of her ear._

Opening her eyes once more she gave a gentle sigh. The obsidian of her gaze met the first rays of the afternoon sun as it broke through the clouds. _Sleep_, her mind tumbled the word around in her head. Her lips twitched ever so slightly before her expression smoothed out once more. Her pace quickened even more.

She vanished into the light of high noon like smoke blown away in the wind.


	2. Ichibi

Disclaimer: I do **_NOT _**own Naruto, I only wish I did. If I did the Akatsuki would win, Naruto would be competent, and Sasuke would be dead.

Warning: See first chapter.

Author's Note: I don't have a beta at the moment. There may be spelling errors and probably grammatical ones for sure. I will use some words that don't exist pronunciation is up to you and the meaning will be explained. Also I have decided to change some of the bijuu, and most if not all of the Jinchuriki's ages have been altered. All of them are in there early to late twenties.

Ichibi and Gaara- Raccoon Dog or Tanuki (Original: Same) Age: 23  
Nibi and Nii Yugito- Cat (Original: Same) Age: 25  
Sanbi and Yagura- Turtle (Original: Same) Age: 21  
Yonbi and Roushi- Wolf (Original: Ape) Age: 27  
Gobi and Han- Horse (Original: Whale-Horse) Age: 28  
Rokubi and Utakata- Water Hound or Dobhar-chú (Original: Gastropod) Age: 25  
Shichibi and Fuu- Phoenix (Original: Rhino Beetle) Age: 20  
Hachibi and Killer Bee- Snake-Ox (Original: Ox-Cephalopod) Age: 25  
Kyuubi Uzumaki Naruto- Fox (Original: Same) Age: 23

I have also decided to, despite some of the bijuu being mythical creatures (not just tailed demon versions of regular animals), use the idea that the number of tails indicates the strength of the Bijuu. Therefore, the Ichibi will be the weakest and the Kyuubi the strongest.

* * *

"Human Speaking"

'_Human Thoughts'_

**"Demon Speaking"**

'**_Demon Thoughts'_**

**"Summon Speaking"**

'**_Summon Thoughts'_**

_"Divine Speaking"_

'_Divine Thoughts'_

* * *

The wind whistled as it blew sand grains over the rolling dunes. A scorching sun baked the earth by day, blinding in its intensity while bitter cold embraced it by night and the lonely moon watch on as the sole sentinel. Within this endless desert lays Sunagakure no Sato protected by walls of stone which hides seemingly weak buildings of baked stone and weathered sand.

At the very edge of the village stood one lone house, it was moderate in size and unassuming. Its sole occupant was a man named Gaara, the current Godaime Kazekage. However, the house was completely bare as all the furniture had been cleared out the previous day. The only items that remained were two framed photos which sat on the window seat.

Gaara stood before both pictures staring out the window at the moon his gaze solemn; lost in thought. Moderately tall at 5'5 (166.1 cm) with a slim figure and wiry muscles he would not seem particularly imposing. However, his fierce jade eyes ringed in black and even more fearsome reputation more than made up for it. Spiked blood red hair fell just above his shoulders which framed a sharp face and strong jaw. On the left side of his forehead the unmistakable kanji for love still stood.

Clothed in his standard red over coat whose twin tails fell to his ankles, one shoulder vest, black pants, and traditional sandals everything seemed normal. However, wrapped around the bottom of his vest was a partially slashed Suna hitai-ate and in his right hand lay a slip of paper.

Gaara's eyes flickered shut hiding the pained expression that crossed his face. Opening them once more his gaze fell upon the picture that stood on the left. Two people smirked out at him. A woman with blonde hair in a flared bob cut stood to one side. Her stance was confident, a hand on her hip while the other held a partially open fan at her side. The wind blew the edges of her black battle kimono and red sash, only adding to the fiery image she projected. At her side was a man with wild brown hair and a face detailed with purple war paint that swirled hypnotically around his eyes and mouth in complex designs. In all black he stood with arms crossed and a cocky expression, a detailed wooden salamander twined around his waist.

Smiling softly with a fond expression decorating his face, Gaara tilted his head back as he let himself remember…

_Flashback_

_"Gaara!" His sister cried as she marched up to his office desk with a scolding glare. Continuing she exclaimed, "Honestly what are we going to do with you! You've been at work for the past 48 hours you need a break. Get some fresh air, take a walk, do something anything but don't just sit here!" _

_Looking up from his work Gaara scowled and said, "I can't afford a break, Temari."_

_Softening her glare she continued, "We both know that's not the reason." Heaving a sigh and with a shake of her head, "Honestly, you can't avoid her forever you know." Looking up with a wicked grin a devilish light entered Temari's eyes before she lunged forward grabbing his wrist and heaving him out of his chair and out of his office._

Glaring even more heavily than before Gaara made to yank his arm for her grasp but she just turned and grinned, "Oh no, not this time." As they rounded the corner Gaara spotted a lone figure standing before a window. She was wearing a tan kimono top with wide bell sleeves that nearly covered her hands. A black sash encircled her waist and matching black pants stopped just before her sandals. She turned to them and smiled as Gaara spluttered and blushed, "H-Hikari."

_Finally releasing his wrist his sister pivoted on her heel before walking back the way they came, but not before throwing a final smirk over her shoulder, "Have fun."_

_Hikari gave a wave before turning back to look at him. With a quirked eyebrow she said, "You know you can't propose to a girl then lose your nerve and run away."_

_Crossing his arms and glaring as he looked to the side he said, "I did not run away." Seeing her re-raise the eyebrow she had lowered out of his peripheral vision he tacked on, "Immediately." _

_Turning back to look at her he began to smile as he took in her wavy brown hair that fell to her shoulders and hazel eyes. The soft face, petite nose, plump lips, her tan complexion and athletic build softened by gentle curves. His gaze was filled with a quiet affection, "Let me try again."_

_Slowly he walked forward until he came to a rest a couple of feet in front of her. Dropping gracefully to one knee he gently grasped her hand, and with a steady gaze he asked with no hesitation, "Will you do me the honor of marrying me?" With a soft smile of her own she whispered a breathy yes as she pulled him back to his feet. _

_Standing again Gaara raised his hand caressing her cheek before leaning in. As they kissed she threaded her fingers through his hair; his hands running down her back before encircling her waist and pulling her up against him. Temporarily moving away for air she smiled again before burying her head in his shoulder. _

_Inhaling deeply she held him tighter as she smelt the warm scent that was so uniquely Gaara, the desert, the wind and an underlying scent of something tangy and something faintly sweet. Nuzzling his shoulder, they stood there for awhile before she pulled away with a grin. "You're not going to run again are you?" His reply was a smirk before he kissed her again._

_End Flashback_

_Flashback_

_Leaning against the far wall his brother was smirking at him and after a minute or two he finally said, "So, I've heard you have your eye on a girl?" _

_Looking up from his paperwork Gaara threw a glare before saying, "Kankuro, shut up." But Kankuro just laughed before continuing, "So it's true then? Ha-ha, my baby brother is all grown up now." Looking even more irritated Gaara just stared. As he opened his mouth to say something Kankuro waltzed over, placing his hands on the desk before leaning over and with a leer asked, "Is she hot?"_

_Kankuro quickly ducked as a wave of sand flew at him. With a nervous laugh he held up his hands in surrender and apologized, "Alright, alright I'm sorry. I was just teasing." Getting more serious he inquired, "So what's her name?" _

_Gaara stared impassively before answering, "Hikari." Kankuro left not long after. Narrowing his eyes suspiciously at the spot where Kankuro was previously standing. Several minutes later Gaara heaved a sigh and stood up to investiga- follow._

_Kankuro had left quickly, and by the time Gaara caught up he heard only the tail end of his brother's conversation._

_"… don't care who you are. My brother may be the strongest ninja in Suna and the Kazekage, but he's still my brother. If this is some type of plot to undermine him or if you hurt him…" Trailing off Kankuro left the threat hanging. Another voice, female, replied, "It's not. I won't." The two continued on for several minutes; threats and reassurances. Eventually they broke off and footstep started toward the door._

_A half-smile crossed Gaara's face at his brother's concern before he turned and left._

_End Flashback_

_Flashback_

_"I give you, the people of Suna, the Godaime Kazekage-sama!" _

_The crowd roared and cheered as a figure stood above them. Pulling the traditional hat from his head Gaara gazed down at the people of Suna, HIS people. And he smiled, a smile of accomplishment, the smile of someone who's in disbelief of the most wonderful kind, the one you wear when the one thing, one good thing, great thing you never thought would happen, happens._

_'Thank you, Naruto,' Gaara thought fondly, 'it's because of you that this…this is possible…'_

_End Flashback_

Looking back down toward the other picture, Gaara smiled again. It was him and Hikari at their wedding. He was wearing a formal black and red kimono smiling at the camera, looking happier than he could ever remember being. At his side sat his wife, looking so vibrant and lovely. She was radiant in a white and blue floral kimono. The obi was a solid royal blue embroidered with ornate gold swirls and long sleeves blew gently in the wind. The rest flowed to the ground in a cascade of silk and color. She looked beautiful, and she chose him of all the people she could have had, she had wanted him. '_She had wanted me._'

Reaching out with his left hand he moved to trace the image with his fingers. His hand, stopping centimeters from her face, hovered before pulling back.

_'I swear one day I will come back Hikari,'_ the thought echoing resolutely through his mind, '_for you and for Temari and Kankuro and Suna. But this, what I am doing right now, is _**for**_ you, _**for**_ Temari, _**for**_ Kankuro, and _**for**_ Suna…'_

Determination entered his eyes and they hardened focused on one sole vision of the future, a wonderful, peaceful future.

Walking toward the door his footsteps echoed, _thump_ _thump thump_, like his heart pounding steadily in his chest. Reaching out he pulled a two-sided black and tan traveling cloak from a hook and two poaches which he attached to his hip.

_Thump thump thump _

_'Yes, this is for you_,' and as he thought this all the voices of the past rushed through him…

_"Monster"_

_"Demon"_

_"Bakemono" _

_"Murderer"_

_"Freak"_

_"Die"_

_"I hate you"_

_"You don't belong"_

_"Gaara"_

_"Gaara-sama"_

_"Kazekage-sama"_

_"Brother"_

_"Otouto"_

_"Gaara-kun"_

_"I love you"_

_"Stay with me"_

…everything he became, everything he was…

_Demon_

_Monster_

_Jinchuriki_

_Sacrifice_

_Murderer_

_Scapegoat _

_Friend _

_Brother_

_Kazekage_

_Lover_

_Husband_

_Partner_

_Protector_

And as he stepped through the threshold the voices ceased. In the silence of night, in the wake of those voices, the door quietly clicked shut ringing out as loudly as if it had been slammed, a note of finality.

That night Gaara left as silently as the door had shut. Vanishing out of the gate unseen and disappearing into the endless desert. The wind howling at his back and rolling dunes soon swallowed his figure. In the night sky one lone sentinel watched his departure.

By morning any footsteps he may have left had long since disappeared. His chakra trail was equally as lost. The sun continued to scorch the earth, burning and blinding.

Within that lone house that sits on the edge of the village, there are no inhabitants and no furniture. Only two pictures sit on the window seat, sun rays washing in from the window. But between them lays something new, a note, sitting innocently in a puddle of light. One black word is written across it in a neat, tidy fashion.

_Goodbye_


End file.
